


Social Distancing

by Lilander



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Awkward, Bad Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gratuitous Swearing, Inappropriate Humor, Leia is an Italian mother, Masturbation, PWP, Phone Sex, Quarantine, Sexting, The Organas aren't rich, The world's ending lets cope with smut, Virgin Ben Solo, Whiteboard flirting, social distancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23239903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilander/pseuds/Lilander
Summary: “Oh my fuck,” Ben whispers, hoping his mom can’t hear his boner over the phone.“What’s wrong, Benny? Is it the cops?”It’s too late. The girl in the window sees him.The woman. The stark-naked beautiful woman who's staring right at him from the apartment across the alley.What else can he do? He dives behind his couch. He tucks and rolls and hits the ground with a crash that sends Poe’s shitty thrift-store side-table flying, and his Natty Ice with it.“Benny. Benito Francis Solo, is it the fucking cops?”
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 75
Kudos: 459





	Social Distancing

“Oh my fuck,” Ben whispers, hoping his mom can’t hear his boner over the phone.

“What’s wrong, Benny? Is it the cops?”

It’s too late. The girl in the window sees him.

The woman. The stark-naked beautiful woman who's staring right at him from the apartment across the alley.

What else can he do? He dives behind his couch. He tucks and rolls and hits the ground with a crash that sends Poe’s shitty thrift-store side-table flying, and his Natty Ice with it.

“Benny. Benito Francis Solo, is it the fucking cops?”

“No, no, ma, why would it be the cops?”

“You tell me, Benito. What did you get into this time? I swear to God I’ll rip the rest of your father’s hair out if he—“

Ben doesn’t dare risk peeking around the couch at the potentially-still-naked-woman, so he rubs his forehead with the heel of his hand. His Darth Vader collectible figurine—not a toy, whatever Poe says—got thrown off the side table, and Ben sets him upright again.

“Ma, it’s not dad’s fault.”

“So it is the cops.”

“It’s not the cops.”

“You’re in a gang, aren’t you? The world is ending, the whole city’s in quarantine like that Contagious movie, you know, Schwarzenegger one, and my son’s gonna go to jail again.”

“I was in jail for one night, and that was before they legalized—”

“Worst night of my life. My son the drug addict. What did I do to deserve that? I never told you we praying a novena for you—“

“You told me that a thousand times. And it’s not the cops. I’m not goin’ to jail.”

Shit. What if _she_ calls the cops? Can you go to jail for accidentally seeing somebody in the nip? And someone on Twitter said they were calling in the National Guard to give people toilet paper. Maybe it’s a zero-tolerance thing.

“You’re upset, Benny, I can hear it in your voice—“

His sock is now soaked in Natty Ice. “I dropped my…water. Ma, I gotta go.”

“What do you mean you gotta go? Every restaurant in the city’s closed for the lockdown, you can’t have plans—“

“I gotta clean this up.”

“Well put me on the speaker.”

“Ma, I gotta go, okay? Someone’s trying to call me.”

He bangs his head against the floral-print back of his couch—also Poe’s, also a frat-house hand-me-down—because he just fucked up. Leia Organa will know it’s a lie.

“Who’s trying to call you? You have friends now? I’m so proud of you, Benny.”

Ben, too distracted to feel the insult, breathes a sigh of relief. Too soon.

“Oh my god Benny, is it a girl? Did you meet somebody on that Kindle site?”

Shit.

“Tinder, ma.”

He’s about to say it’s absolutely not a girl until he realizes there’s no quicker way to get Leia Organa off the phone than to dangle the potential of Ben’s love-life in front of her nose.

“Yeah, it’s…it’s a girl.”

He finally gets up the nerve to peek. He fills his cheeks with oxygen, sets his shoulders, and sneaks a look around the couch.

There she is. Covered now in what looks like a Snuggie. Holding a whiteboard that reads, in hasty, too-light marker:

_OMG so sorry! I forgot everyone was home!_

Her face, as red as the lightsaber on his hoodie, is contorted into an oops-face that would do Leslie Knope proud. The Snuggie is open down almost to her belly-button, like some kind of designer shit J-Lo would show up to the Oscars in. He has to stop himself from staring at her chest.

He’s close enough to the window for her to be able to see his involuntary, flabbergasted gesticulating: _what the hell are you sorry for?_

Too late he realizes his mistake. He probably looked like he was mad at her.

“Listen, sweetheart, you know I wasn’t born yesterday. If you’re with Paolo you can tell me—“

Ben runs to the kitchenette, where Poe’s stupid whiteboard is propped on the counter. As he pins his phone on his shoulder with his ear, he uses his sleeve to erase “Ben’s Good-Boy Chores uwu” and peels off the My Little Pony stickers Poe used to track their housework before they both went back to not caring.

“Poe’s just my roommate, I swear. I gotta go. You stay safe, okay? Don’t leave the house. You need something you tell Beebee to get it for you.”

“Jesus, Benny, I’m not that old.”

He holds the dry-erase marker’s cap in his teeth as he answer. “I know you’re not old—“

“You have fun with your girl. Tell me all about it. And wear a condom, you don’t wanna get sick.”

He draws a line in marker across his forearm and nearly swallows the cap.

“Jesus, ma. That’s not how social distancing works.”

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, love you too, ma.”

He mashes the end button and practically throws the phone across the living room.

The woman’s holding another sign and looking even more panicked. She’s closed her Snuggie.

 _Please don’t call the police._ ****

He stares at it in shock. What the fuck? Quickly, he erases what he’d written and replaces it:

 _It’s OK!_ **_I’M_ ** _sorry! You don’t need to be sorry!_

Her look of relief melts his heart. What’s she thinking? Is she on parole or something? Quickly, he writes:

_I was on the phone with my mom and I was kind of flusterd. Didn’t mean to stare._

He misspells “flustered” three times before he manages to get it right, and shows her. She starts writing in a flurry. Ben glances around, but the other windows in her six-story building are empty. Everybody’s probably home but parked in front of their phones or their TVs, doing their patriotic duty on the couch.

She presses her whiteboard to the glass.

_Is your mom ok?_

She looks so genuinely concerned he doesn’t know what to say, so he just nods, and, not sure if she can see it in the glare, he gives her a thumbs-up.

The first time he talks to a hot girl or sees said hot girl naked, and in the first thirty seconds he’s managed to bring up his mom and give her an actual honest-to-shit thumbs-up.

Fan-fucking-tastic. A real winner.

He’s about to awkwardly wave goodbye when she bites her lip and starts writing again, then plasters her sign to the window with a shy smile.

 _Are_ _YOU _ _OK? Times are crazy._

Ben shakes his head and laughs. Does she actually want to talk? She must be bored out of her mind. At her look of concern he realizes what he’s done and nods with huge movements. Yes, he’s ok.

She’s looking at him like she expects something, so he writes the least lame thing he can think of, which is absolutely way below her standards. Her arms are gorgeous. She works out. Maybe she’s a dancer or something.

_How are you?_

He can practically hear her snort. She flips her whiteboard to write about how he’s clearly an idiot and she’s wasting her time. He’s out of the loop, and she looks young, definitely legal but definitely younger and more social and better than Ben. Should he have written “how r u?” Is that what they say now? Or is that just how old people talk, like his mom? He really needs to get out more. At least now he has an excuse not to.

Her hair moves in and out of the reflection of the skyline in the afternoon sun. Does she have freckles? He can’t quite see, but she definitely has dimples, and a gorgeous smile when she shows him her sign.

_***BOOORED***_

_I never thought I’d miss work_

He laughs, and she laughs with him. Why hasn’t she gotten dressed? He stoops over his whiteboard and writes:

_Me too_

He can’t think of anything else to write, so he turns it around, feeling helpless. Seconds later she responds:

_It has its upsides tho!_

She dips away from the window for a split second and comes back shaking a can, a really short can, the kind he’s seen at the bodega full of rosé or champagne. She wiggles it back and forth triumphantly. He laughs and grabs his Natty. She raises her can in a mock toast, and he follows, draining the slightly warm, slightly piss-tinged dregs.

She laughs at the face he makes and starts writing again:

_So, do you always jump behind your couch when you want to avoid somebody?_

She’s smirking at him.

Holy shit, is she flirting?

Is this what that looks like? He’s heard tales, he’s seen movies, but he’s been around Poe so much he only knows hot-gay-guy-flirting-with-straight-girls-for-lulz and not actual male-female flirting. And flirting with a stranger in a window is probably something that would have his mom and the old ladies at the parish praying novenas for his immortal soul.

But she’s really, really hot. So he puffs out his cheeks again, gets up the courage that landed his nerdy virgin ass in jail once, and writes:

_Do you always walk around naked?_

He shouldn’t have said that. Damnit. Damn. It. She bends over her whiteboard again and Ben considers erasing it and apologizing prematurely. Is she writing an essay, for fuck's sake? _In this paper I argue that my neighbor is an irredeemable creep…_

She flips her sign and gives a theatrical shrug. Her arm is covering the bottom part of the whiteboard.

 _Hey,_ _now that Tinder dates are out I had to find another option_

Ben can hardly believe what he’s seeing. And she’s _grinning._ At him. Not, like, in the making-fun-of-him way Hux always uses, but looking down at his favorite hoodie like she wants to know what’s under the metal-AF Kylo Ren design.

Her smile widens—she has amazing teeth—and she uncovers the bottom of the whiteboard:

_(So far it’s way better than Tinder)_

_Shit._ Shit shit shit, this is red alert, this is DEFCON-4, this is Death Star throne-room do-or-die shit but with sex instead of lightsabers. One side of her Snuggie has fallen off her shoulder. She definitely has freckles.

Ben nods, dazed, even though she hasn’t asked him a question.

She bites her thumbnail in a gesture so cute and hot in her stupid Snuggie that Ben nearly springs another boner. She eyes him, thinking, and then turns her sign around again.

It’s a phone number.

It’s a fucking _girl’s phone number._

A hot girl.

A hot naked girl.

She wiggles her thumbs in the air, miming texting with her eyebrow raised.

He nods like a moron and dives for his phone. She smiles at him the whole time he checks and re-checks the number, sipping her canned wine and pretending to look at whatever scenery she can see from her building.

He texts:

_Hi._

She grins again, this time down at her phone.

_Man in the window?_

_That’s me._

_What’s your name?_

_Ben._

_Hi Ben!_

_I’m Rey_

What’s he supposed to say? His thumbs hover over the keyboard, stymied. But she saves him.

_So you like the dark side_

He looks up at her, confused, and she points to her chest. This has the unfortunate effect of giving him a reason to look at the crease in her Snuggie, and when he snaps himself out of it she’s smiling and pointing at him.

He spreads his arms.

???

_I like your shirt_

_OOH._

_Thanks._

_I like the dark side too_

Her eyes dart around to the other windows in his building, checking on something, then she goes back to her phone.

_Do you like my shirt?_

She lets the Snuggie fall open, just a little more, obscenely open, enough to flash her chest all the way down to her navel.

What a set of abs. She’s shredded. She’s got an eight-pack.

This is really happening.

The look on his face must reveal something, because she yanks the Snuggie closed and dives for her phone.

_shit I’m so sorry._

_Too much? Are you with somebody?_

Dammit _._

_No, it’s fine!_

_You sure it’s ok?_

_It’s great_

_I’m single_

_I’m on Tinder too, I just don’t usually have much luck with women because of my issueshjhfjadapfdsp duck meeee_

He actually manages to erase the last line before he airs his insecurities to this beautiful girl who asks about his mom and then shows off her glorious abs.

What would Vader do?

Vader would not go to fictional characters for inspiration, certainly not with a mouthful of stale Natty and a giant erection. But that’s fine, it’s just like what Poe always tells him: baby steps. Self-care. You'll be big like Vader someday, but start where you are, buddy.

Where Ben is is desperately horny. He needs to unbutton his pants and get on this stat. So here goes nothing:

_I like your shirt but I’d like you better without it._

At that, she smirks.

_You know, I was thinking the same thing_

_You show me yours and I’ll show you mine_

He starts to pull off his hoodie, then stops, glancing around at the still-empty windows, imagining old ladies standing just out of view as he takes off his shirt in the middle of a pandemic afternoon.

_You want to FaceTime or something?_

_Not yet_

_You were awfully worried I’d call the cops on you_

_Yeah, but I also like to live a little dangerously_

_Plus have you seen those videos of people on balconies_

_Playing music and stuff?_

_Yeah_

_Let’s do that but better_

_Yeah_

_Shit_

_Sounds good_

Sounds good? Sounds _good_? What is he, accepting an invitation for tennis? Capitol, gov’nah, show me your tits in the window.

She’s smiling at him.

_Take off that hoodie Ben_

_Nobody’s watching but me_

Fuck, he likes it when she orders him around. He doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls his hoodie and the shirt underneath it over his head in one motion.

_Daaaaaamn_

_I thought you were built but_

_Wow_

He resists the urge to tell her she doesn’t have to be nice to him, because she’s licking her lips and she looks, well, impressed.

_Now you show me yours?_

_But you already saw me_

_So?_

_So it’s only fair I get the whole **package ** too_

He glances around at the other windows, thinking about all those old ladies again. It’s not doing much for his erection. She’s a hot girl, and hot girls get treated differently for walking around naked in their own apartments than thirty-something nerdy men taking their dicks out in front of windows in broad daylight.

_If you’re comfortable I mean_

_Maybe just quick and then we go to FaceTime?_

_Avoid actual cop-calling?_

He nods. He can handle that.

_Some solidarity for you_

He blinks at his phone, wondering if that’s a political thing, and then he looks up and his heart feels like somebody’s put a lightsaber through it. She’s let the Snuggie slide down her arms, catching in the crook of her elbows like a queen’s robe. Her tits are bare. Her nipples are hard. As she watches, she reaches up to tease one with her finger.

Fuck. Fuck yes.

He unzips his pants, and she mirrors his movements, dropping the blanket entirely at the moment when his hard cock spills out into his hand. He’s so busy staring at her body that he doesn’t notice she’s staring at his until their eyes meet several dazed seconds later.

They nod at each other, totally naked, and then dip out of sight of the window. His phone buzzes.

_Gfdjak;daf;_

_Holy shit you’re huge_

_You’re so fucking hot_

_I want that in my mouth_

_Shit_

_We could_

_Social distancing_

_Duck me_

_OK fine_

_Omg I’m totally not blowing you off_

_I’m self-isolating for 4 more days_

_Oh shit you’re sick?_

_No but someone at work was_

_Dumbass boss made us come in_

_Anyway apocalypse later FaceTime now???_

_Fuck yes_

And then his phone blows up and she’s there, still naked, much clearer. She does have freckles, and beautiful hazel eyes and a smile he wants to cum all over.

"Hi," she says, and Ben can't respond. Her nipples are just...there. About to pop right out of his screen. She's sitting on a couch that's far less gross than his, and over her shoulder he can just her fridge covered in dry-erase tally-marks and the words "Days of My Captivity."

"Ben? Can you hear me?"

"Uh, yeah. It's just...you're, um..."--the most beautiful thing I've ever seen--"....British?"

Or is it Australian? Fuck, she's probably Australian and she's going to go on some nationalist rant.

"I am! I'd also really like to see you cum. Can you move your camera a bit? I want to see all of you.

"Uh, sure." He feels like an idiot trying to prop his phone up on the side table so that she can see his erection. It's hard for him to fit everything on the screen.

"I love your voice."

He nearly drops the phone. "Uh, thanks. You must be really bored if you like my voice."

"I love how low it is. I want you to talk to me while we do this."

Thank fuck, he finally gets the phone set up. But as soon as he leans back on the couch it falls over. He swears, and hears her laugh while he gets it back up. The phone.

"There you are," she says. Her face looks as pink as her canned rosé. She's moved her camera so he's got a straight shot of her fingers busy between her folds. She's covered in curly brown hair, and the inside is beautifully pink too, shading into red.

"Hey," he opines.

"Can I confess something?" she asks, a little breathless.

The old ladies in the parish threaten to haunt him. Is she a meth-head? Overstayed her visa? "Uh. Like, how bad?"

"I'm nervous."

"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, me too." He pauses with his hand around his cock. "You don't seem nervous."

"Thanks. I guess I don't usually do this-- _oh yes,_ your cock is gorgeous." 

She slides her fingers inside. Plural. Two at once, none of this build-up teasing shit. She wants _cock._ She pulls herself open to the screen.

"Oh my _god._ "

He can hear how wet she is. She pinches her nipples, and he keeps rubbing himself, trying to go slow because that's what you're supposed to do, right?

"I mean hooking up," she clarifies as she shoves her fingers into her soaking wet pussy. "I usually like to get to know people first."

"Yeah, me too. I--" Fuck him and fuck his nervousness. Vader wouldn't hesitate. "We can get to know each other after this. You know. Maybe when you're not self-isolating..."

"Could we, Ben? Could you talk to me for a few days?"

"Fuck, I'd talk the shit out of you."

"Then--in a few--days--could you come over--with--pasta---and fuck me?"

"Shit, Rey, yes, I'd bring you pasta. I'd bring you hand sanitizer."

_"Fuck."_

"I'd fuck you so hard."

"How would you fuck me, Ben?"

Ben's hand pauses momentarily on his cock, because how exactly is he supposed to answer that?

"Hard?" he tries, and oh, yeah, she likes that, so he keeps going. "I'd shove my cock in you and I'd suck on those gorgeous tits. I'd shove you up against the window and show you to everybody if you wanted--"

She's flicking her nipple as she strokes her clit now.

"Oh my god oh my god--"

"You're gonna make me cum, Rey."

"I want to see you cum. I want to see that cock--"

"Not til you're ready. Are you ready to cum for me?"

"Yes, yes, please cum, Ben, I'll cum with you, yes-- _fuck."_

 _"Fuck,_ " Ben agrees, and he makes what has to be a ridiculous noise as he rides out the hardest climax of his life. When he breathes out and comes to, he sees flecks of white across his phone. She's still lying there, wide open and filthy.

"You're beautiful," he says.

She looks up, disheveled and flushed, and smiles almost shyly. "So are you," she says.

He's not about to waste toilet paper cleaning up since apparently that stuff is worth more than gold in today's America, so he abuses his Kylo Ren hoodie a little, wiping the cum off his stomach and his technology. "I wish I could lick that off," she says.

"I'd like that. And...I...maybe this is lame, but were you serious about talking? My roommate's at his boyfriend's and it's just me over here."

"Why wouldn't I be serious? You're gorgeous and you seem really nice, Ben."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You seem nice too."

She smiles, and she's beautiful.

***

Six hours later, he's in the middle of telling her about the night he got arrested. She's told him all about growing up in foster care, they've figured out they share daddy issues, she's cried twice, he's cried three times, they've had at least four orgasms each, and Ben has tossed two carefully-sanitized rolls of toilet paper and a Natty Ice across the alley into her window.

"What's that?" she asks when his eyes go wide.

"It's nothing."

"Ben, is it your mum?"

Mum. Jesus, his mother's gonna go nuts over her.

Oh shit, he's actually gonna have to introduce her to his mother.

"Yeah?"

"You should answer it."

She smiles at him, because she's so damn caring and good and he can't understand what she sees in him. He puts her on hold and answers his mom.

"Yeah ma?"

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Was it the cops?"

"It wasn't the cops."

"So it really was a girl?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it was."

"Oh my god Benny. How it go? Tell me all about it."

"It went--it went good. Real good."

He can hear his mother beaming. He can hear the parish ladies rejoicing.

"Did you kiss her?"

"Ma, we're quarantined."

"I know, Benny, I know! Just, remember one thing for me, okay, sweetheart?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Promise me you'll remember what I said about the condom."


End file.
